


Lucullan

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucullan: adjective; loo-KULL-un: lavish, luxurious</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucullan

**Author's Note:**

> Lucullan echoes the name of Roman general Lucius Licinius Lucullus. The general had a distinguished military career (including the defeat of Mithradates VI Eupator, king of Pontus, at Cabira in 72 B.C.E.), but he is best remembered for the splendor of his opulent retirement. Lucullus established a reputation for magnificent banquets, at which he wined and dined the leading poets, artists, and philosophers of his time. His feasts were sufficiently extravagant to establish a lasting place for his name (in adjective form) as a synonym of lavish in the English lexicon.

John knew Sherlock hated Christmas. With a passion. Almost as much as he hated Mycroft's visits, or when Anderson got to a crime scene first. So, when he awoke on Christmas Day to the smell of coffee and breakfast, he thought he was in the wrong flat. He stretched, found his robe, stumbled to the loo and rubbed his eyes when he walked into the kitchen. In front of him was a Lucullan feast, scones obviously baked by Mrs. Hudson, eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, beans...

"Sherlock?"  
"Oh, John, he went out for a bit, he said for you to go ahead and eat if you were up before he got back." Mrs. Hudson said as she entered the flat. "He was very excited about something. You know how he gets."  
"Uhm, yeah. Ok, when did this food happen?"  
"He started banging around 4:30 this morning, he was whistling."  
"Whistling? Sherlock? We are talking about the tall, curly haired consulting detective that resides here?"  
"I know, I couldn't believe it either, he even baked scones this morning."  
"He bakes?"  
Mrs. Hudson shrugged and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "I'm off to my sister's, hope you two have a lovely holiday."

He was halfway through his first scone when Sherlock came bouncing up the stairs, "Oh, good! You're up! Are the scones okay? I used my grandmother's recipe, but it's been awhile-"  
"Slow down, Sherlock, are you feeling alright? You do realize it's Christmas morning, yeah? You hate Christmas-"  
"I hated Christmas, before, well- you, uhm, us. I never had anyone to celebrate Christmas with, and can you imagine Christmas with Mycroft as a child?  
"Mmmmm, no."  
"You can't imagine-"  
At that moment, John looked up and saw the mistletoe hanging above them.  
"Sherlock-"  
"Yes, John?"  
John put his hands into his lover's curls and pulled him down for a kiss that may have surpassed the utter lavishness of the breakfast in its intensity and sweetness.  
"Are you, uhm, hungry, John?"  
"Starving-I missed waking up next to you-the scones can wait, though, right?"  
Sherlock nodded, as his blogger started undressing him, first the coat, scarf and suit jacket, then slowly he unbuttoned the purple shirt(of sex, John had dubbed it, recently). Sherlock tried to assist and John batted his hands away, gradually undoing the skin tight trousers that were hiding nothing at the moment.  
"Johhhhhn, please?"  
"Patience, love, patience."  
Sherlock closed his eyes and felt his love slide his cock from his red pants, only worn on cases and holidays. He held onto John's hair, and considered himself fortunate that he was leaning against the wall, otherwise he'd be on the floor.  
"Unnnnghhhhh," was all he could manage.  
"Happy Christmas, Sherlock." John whispered as he felt his partner shudder and cry out. "Let's get a shower and have some breakfast, yeah? The scones are too perfect to waste."


End file.
